Page 10 of Three More Shots
She takes a small bite of steak, as if that will let her off the hook. But I wait her out while she chews and ask again after she swallows.
“I usually exercise since that’s the only time I can go to the gym. It breaks up the day and gives me kind of a mental break as well as physical. I always feel better afterward. I’m sure you work out too, so you know what I mean.”
Realization begins to form in my thoughts from her forced cheerfulness. As to why she’s so thin. As to why she’s rambling. As to why she’s trying to change the subject. “You could eat at your desk afterward. I’ve seen other people do it.”
“Yes, that’s true.”
And that’s not an answer. “Corinne.”
Another flinch from my tone reminds me I’m bullying her over subjects that seem to upset her when all I want is to understand.
“I save my money for my daughter. Our insurance is good, but with her medicine and speech therapy, occupational therapy, behavior therapy—it adds up. Treatment is expensive.”
I fucking hate her sacrifices almost as much as her defensiveness. I don’t know why she doubts herself when the reality is obvious. “You’re a good mom, Corinne. Don’t ever let anyone tell you fucking different.”
Magnificent blue eyes stare into mine. The longest she’s looked at me since I’ve known her. I don’t know what she thinks she sees, but I sure as hell hope it’s the respect she’s earned.
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. It’s the truth.” I get a grateful smile and a soft laugh in return. Maybe from the wine, hopefully from me. “Now eat your lunch.”
She dives in a bit more enthusiastically than before, enjoying her meal while I enjoy her company. The second glass of wine goes down just as easy, giving a brightness to her eyes and a bit of a slur to her voice. Her stunning smile never flickers as I finish my food. She gave it her best effort, but couldn’t keep up with my appetite.
Now I’m hungry for her. I take her small fingers in mine and kiss her soft skin, hopefully reassuring her of my intentions to be gentle with her. I can’t hold back any longer and slide closer, nuzzling her neck and caressing my other hand up her thigh. Only to feel her stiffen and turn away from my lips on her throat.
Fuck. Too much too fast. “You’re so damn beautiful. I just can’t help myself.”
“Please don’t make me do it here. Can we at least go someplace private?”
The desire I want to hear doesn’t fill her whisper. Instead, disgust and loathing harden her voice more than I thought possible from such a refined woman. “What do you think I’m making you do?”
I lift from her shoulder, but she refuses to face me, only trembles against my chest. Her shame, her acceptance, her fear infuriates me from the realization of what her questions imply. “Do you think you have to fuck me to keep your job?”
“Isn’t that what you want? Why you took me out?”
God damn it. “No, it’s not, and I’m pissed as hell you think it is. Even more so that you’d do it if I told you it was.”
Finally, I witness the fury in her I deserve after she whips her head back to face me, gratified by her small fist pressing against the white tablecloth as her rigid body leans toward me. “I’d do anything – even if it means degrading myself – to protect my daughter. I need this job for her more than I need my pride for me.”
That right there is why I’m totally enamored with this woman. She’d let me fuck her up to make sure nothing fucks up her child. Nothing earns respect more than loyalty and sacrifice with me. “I know you would, but you don’t have to. Ever. Not for me. Not for anyone. Do you understand?”
Only a slow nod answers me as she softens with relief against the cushion despite my dominant tone. But I’ve had enough of her misunderstanding me and my intentions. I accept her mute agreement because I know I’ve overwhelmed her to the point of silence. Unintentionally, I’ve put her through hell today, which I regret, but will love making her world better from now on.
Chapter Three
Damn.This place is a fucking dump.
I double-check the address on the faded green mailbox, leaning precariously to the left. The gold edges of the number stickers peel up from the cracked plastic after years of exposure to the elements. Yep, I’m in the right place.
The gravel driveway crunches under my tires, muffled from the whining baritone yelp of the dog racing up and down the fence line of the duplex across the street. His insistent bark alerts the neighborhood to my presence. My head thuds in rhythm with the deep base pounding from the shit someone calls music blaring from the house three doors down. I park behind a gleaming motorcycle. The chrome so polished the fading sun still glints off the metal and sparkles against the weathered siding surrounding her beat-up screen door.
I know I shouldn’t show up uninvited and unannounced, but I hated the way we left things today. She knows at least that I’m not sexually harassing her, but that’s not enough. I need her to understand so much more. I want to take care of her and her daughter. I want to make them my family.
The beagle yowls even harder when I climb out of my vehicle, causing the porch light to flick on, but no one comes out to check on me or the dog. Despite the ruckus, all I hear is a furious voice drifting from her living room as I jog up the porch steps.
“Didn’t I warn you about shutting that kid up?”
“Please, Tank. She can’t help it. She doesn’t do it on purpose.”
